Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  She finished before flinging the joint on the pavement. As her shoe crushed the remaining evidence, Aviere’s expression soured while playing with a loose strand of hair outside her tight bun. After brushing out tangles, she twirled the strand and shook her head at Peters’s spaceship-themed tie.

  Well, cuckoo describes the neurotic weasel. He chose the perfect tie.

  “Mye?”

  “Once Gunther disappeared, I assumed all financial responsibility in our joint venture. Of course, you found all the bankruptcy paperwork, or you wouldn’t press the issue.”

  “If it were medical, I’d understand. It doesn’t explain how you saved the Ferrari, though.”

  “Jet wasn’t operational, so I switched out his original license plates from our government issued vehicle. By doing this, I presumed no one could trace the Ferrari. As for Lim’s, I sold it, then bought it again at an auction years later. Maurice isn’t legally bound to us except by marriage, which meant his assets weren’t affected.”

  Several bubble pops sounded from the iPad through the auxiliary cord attached to the car radio. Aviere flicked her earring, meeting Travis’s exhausted stare.

  He’s paying for me blowing off Sanderson, but I needed time to settle our affairs. Tonight will finish everything before Maurice assumes Lim’s position and Celene steps in as my business partner, but I want closure between us before reporting for duty.

  As Aviere leaned against the Corvette and admired the workmanship, she tsked when Travis leaned inside the exposed window and yanked the auxiliary cord loose.

  I’ll fix things tonight, beginning with the arcane incident. If you pulled off your asinine experiment, it might be worth your sacrifice, Lim.

  “While your explanation is credible, why give up your business?”

  “I didn’t,” Aviere answered, glaring at the sports bar. “It’s still registered, but I liquidated most of our assets in the bankruptcy. I sold enough to satisfy the courts on paper.”

  “Oh?”

  “Business picked up when we had government contracts and licensed pharmacists, but between the expenses, my brother’s incarceration, and Gunther’s gambling, I had to sell most of my equipment. I also wasn’t on the books, so the authorities never noticed my involvement. I couldn’t continue with obsolete machinery since the software is specialized.”

  “Fair enough, I suppose.”

  “It took six years to pay off everything between Gunther’s humongous debt and Limere’s loan-shark lawyer. Had I managed the business alone, I might have succeeded further. But without specific funding for my medicine and doctor’s appointments, I resorted to a cleaner position.”

  Recounting her history diminished the Poisoner’s confidence as her voice sank. The memories came and left like a cinematic flashback, but heaviness weighed on her aching chest at the casualties she suffered.

  Another series of bubble pops sounded from the Corvette and returned Aviere’s focus back to her predicament.

  “Aviere, maybe my timing—”

  “Your iPad better shut off in the next thirty seconds,” she warned the specialist. “I’m not recounting so you can document for blackmail.”

  “No way. This is good material.”

  She shoved Travis aside and leaned into the vehicle while clutching the door with both hands. “I asked you here for a reason, not to fight with you.”

  “Then continue your story.”

  Aviere dug into her purse and produced a sealed cream-colored envelope, waving it back and forth. “I spent the afternoon with your boss yesterday. Delete everything you typed, and you’ll earn your field credentials back, Peters.”

  “Show me the letter, bitch.”

  “It’s right here,” Aviere said, emphasizing each word before thrusting it at the specialist. “I hate owing favors.”

  “I’m not handling anything you touch unless I’ve seen it first.”

  Clever bastard. He might survive after all.

  “Check your email. There’s a PDF attachment inside.”

  She grinned at how fast Shawn Peters returned to the precious tablet lying on his lap.

  “Mye, return to your fascinating story,” Travis said. “I need a distraction while Peters shits himself in disbelief.”

  The notion of finishing her sordid tale dried her mouth and tightened her esophagus, which reignited the radiating pain trailing from her recent battle scar.

  “I hated contracts. It paid the bills but killing people repulsed me. Working for the Underground after settling Gunther and Limere’s screwups depressed me, so I gave up racing. In fact, I almost dismantled Jet until Eisen offered me a job four years ago. She was the only one who supported me, so she compromised on our contract. If I gave her four years of experience, she’d rebuild my workshop and spot for Jet’s repairs.”

  “Crap…why is this connection slower than dial-up on a 56k modem? It doesn’t take long for a PDF to download.”

  “Patience is a virtue,” Aviere drawled.

  “I didn’t pay a three hundred dollar termination fee and switch cell phone providers for dial-up speed,” Peters whined. “Watch, Armandi has private Wi-Fi with a snooty password.”

  “Do you listen to yourself? I mean, do you honestly consider the verbal diarrhea coming out of your mouth, Peters?”

  “I do, but I’m not sure about you,” Peters said with a cheerful lilt to his voice.

  “Your over-inflated ego is as astounding as always.”

  “Not quite, but your snarky remarks have better timing now.”

  “When you guys showed up, I had fulfilled four years. Eisen gave me the green light and sponsored me. I registered, and we almost split from the Underground’s gritty business with every obligation completed so they couldn’t come after our family. Then McSeeten ruined everything, but he’s not the real mastermind.”

  Her nail raked across her throat as Aviere’s eyes became distant and her lips parted.

  “Just like Angelique, someone else pulled the strings, and whoever caused it killed my brother while destroying all ties to my previous lifestyle.”

  “The deer in headlights look doesn’t suit you.”

  Aviere covered her mouth while she yawned, blinked her tired eyes, and focused on the specialist’s scathing remark. “Sorry. I haven’t slept well since…”

  “Yeah.”

  Her butt vibrated and Aviere checked her phone when an awkward silence took over the conversation. Several unanswered text notifications flashed on her screen and one transcribed voicemail made her cringe.

  Crap. Am I an hour late already?

  “Holy shit, Mye. I… there’s a legal document here from human resources.”

  The OtterBox case creaked as Aviere squeezed the electronic device. “Yes, there is. How nice of you to notice.”

  “How did you manage to get the director’s approval?”

  The embedded jewels sparked pain through her jugular vein and behind her ear as Aviere rubbed the fragments. She closed her eyes while recounting the dismal afternoon with her father, the post-humorous pardon, and the awkward atmosphere at home within the last two weeks. Her breath snagged in her throat while her heartbeat hammered from the unwanted magic activating the rune.

  I hate relying on others, but I’m grateful Da—

  “I lost three appeals with an attorney!”

  Lim, I never thought I’d thank Agent Neuro for his growing neuroticism.

  The rune dimmed before it could become noticeable, and Aviere covered it as she glared at the complaining agent exiting the Corvette.

  “Do you have an inner monologue? Because I was reflecting on that disastrous afternoon when you screamed about attorneys.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re a felon, but everyone bends when you ask for favors.”

  “Oh, for god’s sake, Shawn,” Travis grumbled. “Discussing Dalara is awkward enough. She had your back.”

  “Don’t mistake Mye’s ‘good will’, Keith. I’m reminding her that I’m not her
puppet.”

  “Okay. Dream of conspiracy theories on your own time. Meanwhile, let Mye explain this impromptu meeting, or why this business suit arrived at my apartment this morning.”

  Aviere pretended to cough while examining Travis’s new outfit and fixated on the blazer with metal buckles, the black vest, and the fedora. Honey brown strands hung over one lens of his repaired sunglasses and a short navy blue tie stood out against the pressed alabaster shirt.

  Well, well, Travis. You held out on me. Very snazzy.

  “You’re eyeing my suit like you’re on the prowl, Aviere.”

  “I’m impressed,” she complimented. “You’re almost respectable enough to present to my mother-in-law. She might fancy you. Lorraine is sympathetic, unlike Ma and Gunther.”

  “Please don’t. I don’t need people getting the wrong idea.”

  “I agree. Now, come with me. Armandi wanted a peaceful conference, so limit your shenanigans, Peters.”

  Before they asked questions, Aviere grabbed Travis’s arm and dragged him behind her. Muttered complaints followed, but Aviere ignored them as she skipped to the building and hummed a metal song as they arrived at the entrance. One single gesture toward the familiar bouncer stopped the specialist’s advances.

  Through her new reflective glasses, Aviere licked her lips, whistling under her breath as Peters scooted away from Marco’s pistol and cursed her for his horrible luck.

  The whistle became noticeable when Peters reached for an empty holster and she wiggled her leather-bound fingers at him.

  Well, that takes care of Neuro ruining Limere’s eulogy.

  “Aviere, was that necessary?”

  She cleared her throat as she pulled the thick glass door. “To quote the good specialist, ‘Yes. It was therapeutic.’” Aviere took Travis’s silence as disapproval when she propped a foot against the partially opened entrance. “Hurry inside before Armandi loses his mind. I’m an hour late, and he agreed to host tonight’s vigil before meeting with me. If I’m right, the women will drive Joe crazy. Since I’ve been tied up and his women drink wine when they’re upset, Joe can pay Louis for their growing bar tab.”

  Aviere thumbed the central jewel as Travis headed inside and smoothed out her black cocktail dress before adjusting the forest-green shawl over her scarred shoulders. Once completed, the Poisoner followed behind, bowing her head so no one mistook her amused expression.

  The eulogy proved tedious, and Aviere fanned her face and bit her glove on numerous occasions.

  Each individual who spoke sparked joyful and painful memories she’d shared with her older brother. Twice, she squeezed the agent’s hand as he sat beside her and paid attention to their memorial. The blue urn representing Limere’s missing body bore other items, such as mementos and tokens that represented his dual-sided personality.

  By the time Aviere excused herself and slipped into the private bar, she was grateful to miss Celene’s sniffling portion.

  As she stepped into the room and prayed in silence, the door crashed behind her, jolting her out of her reverie.

  “Mye, we need to talk. You’ve avoided me long enough.”

  “You hid something vital from me,” she started, keeping her voice low. “Maybe you don’t believe Q is important, but the paper he handed you meant something to me.”

  She spun on her heel when the crinkled paper unfolded.

  “This? It’s an equation… not worth merit without—”

  “I understood it!” Aviere snatched the document and gasped when a corner tore apart. “Shit!”

  “With the excitement, I forgot. Honest.”

  The agent’s explanation is reasonable, considering how fast the cartel attacked.

  “Had I been informed, I would have handled myself better.”

  “Or ogled over Q, whichever came first.”

  “Whatever opinions you hold about m—him, refrain from them this evening.”

  She ignored Travis’s snickers as she glared at the paper and scurried to the bar.

  “Limere worked on a top-secret project. The equation was one missing piece.”

  Aviere fanned her heated face with the delicate page while sliding on a barstool, rocking back and forth at the unfortunate discovery. Her muscles jittered as she calculated, mouthing out numbers on wordless lips.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Formulating.” After resting a finger on her bottom lip in thought, Aviere pocketed the paper inside her purse. “Instead of curing the disease, Limere worked on a plan to manipulate regeneration. He ranted about a missing gene or mutation for years, but you know… we didn’t pay attention to him.”

  “You miss a lot, Mye. Dalara—”

  “Please stop using his last name. My mother shared the same one, and they’re both dead.”

  “If you understood how the demoness worked, it became easy to establish each persona.”

  Aviere swore her chest would develop rug burn after rubbing it to ease her nerves. Nonetheless, she covered her face to hide her shameful expression.

  “I did… only at the end, though. Makes me a horrible sister, doesn’t it?”

  The door squeaked and Aviere snapped her head to attention. She maneuvered until she leaned against the bar, then watched as Louis Armandi entered, slackening his tie. Red crept into her cheeks as she swiveled away from both men.

  “Louis, give us five minutes, please.”

  From behind her, Aviere heard Armandi clear his throat. “I’ve had my fill of sobbing women for the evening. I don’t want to be heartless, but another sappy speech and I would’ve shared the bar with Randolph.”

  Aviere cracked a small smile. “Limere always had strong women around him. Celene changed everything for him, despite her sacrifice.”

  “Rodriguez’s girl scares me,” Armandi confessed. “How Limere dealt with her, I’ll never know.”

  “Every brazen personality needs a low-key individual to even them out,” Aviere said. “It leads into my discussion. If you could make two drinks, it’d help.”

  “You’re getting water. Randolph and his women are drunk enough.”

  She waved Travis over to her, but hesitated at his stiffened pose and the betrayed look in his hazel eyes. Aviere squirmed in her seat and kicked the metal before fidgeting with her fingers.

  “Keith, I’m sorry.” The words barely reached a whisper. “I tried not to let—”

  “I wanted fifteen minutes alone to chew your ass out, but I’m tired, Mye. This life… the chaotic cycle you live… I want out.”

  She grabbed his hand with both of hers, tensing as she felt his hostility through his shaking body. “I’m fixing things. Please understand… it takes time. Sanderson screwed you and Peters. I didn’t ask for this, remember?”

  “You resent me, don’t you?”

  The question made her recoil, but she kept hold of his hand as her heartbeat fluttered. Her chest burned as light registered in her peripheral vision.

  What is this? The same as outside…

  “Do you?” Travis repeated.

  “Before, yes. Now, no.”

  “Mye, Dalara wasn’t himself half the time. His magic came from the monster trapped in the transference spell. She craved power and destruction while torturing your brother the entire time. It obviously happened often because after his eye bled, he refused medical care, and mentioned everything the doctors had investigated within a five-year span.”

  Aviere squeezed tighter as she remembered Raymond’s copious records from the hospital. “At least he worked with someone. Their notes should prove valuable in countering—”

  “She convinced him to steal energy from whoever he could.”

  “He gave the impression—”

  “Dalara used recreational drugs and took prescription meds before homebrewing his own. His woman made specialized medicine so it didn’t completely fry his brain.”

  She contemplated Travis’s comments and furrowed her eyebrows. “If Celene managed such a miracle, wh
y would Limere give up?”

  “I don’t think he—”

  Glasses clanked on the bar top and grumbled curses burst from behind her. When she rotated on the stool, Aviere noticed a droplet of blood leaking from Armandi’s finger.

  “Answer Aviere’s question. She deserves a proper explanation if Limere confided in you.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  The Poisoner folded her hands before her eyes darkened. “Excuse me?”

  “He wavered, depending on his sanity. One moment, he seemed sincere. The next, following a momentary possession, he followed whatever orders she gave. I avoid discussing the Red Coat Society, but Dalara used me better than you.”

  Aviere snarled before driving her claws into the counter. “Oh?”

  “I’m the buffer between you and Shawn.”

  “Fine, your objection is noted.” Aviere raised a finger before rising and continuing her argument. “To be fair, the entire assignment became convoluted.”

  “I almost died because of you!” Travis shouted. “Your carefree attitude—”

  A loud thud ended their heated discussion.

  “Enough!” Their host cleared his throat before pouring liquid into a glass. “Every time I set up the jammers and soundproof devices, you’re always arguing with someone, Aviere. Quit the melodrama and compose yourself before Marco removes both of you.”

  Aviere slid a hand by her pocket, reassured by the weight of her familiar blowgun. A glass of water slid before her and she sipped, relishing the coolness against her sandpapery tongue.

  “I’m aware Celene will replace Limere. Suitable choice, due to the circumstances and change in your team’s dynamic. Your agent is better suited for field work than racing, dear.”

  She chortled while Travis signed a crucifix over his chest.

  Well, next time, agent. You will learn to race sooner or later.

  “However, this brings me to our main topic: replacing Evan Donahue.”

  The playful mood vanished at Armandi’s declaration.

  “I’ve spoken with everyone else and reviewed the report your associate typed. Two pages too long, but detailed enough to satisfy the governing factions. Before I decide, I’d like to consider your thoughts about potential candidates to replace Donahue, Aviere.”